Page 71 of The No Try Zone
“He’d be stoked. Absolutely worked up and losing his mind.”
“He would’ve been here, all kitted out in Granite gear and sitting front row.” I smile at the image.
“Yeah,” he says, his smile mirroring mine. He touches his chest. “He’s here, yeah?”
I put my hand over my heart. “He’s always here.”
He swallows, then shakes his head. “Yeah. You know, Coach helps a lot, though.”
I struggle to keep my expression neutral. “How’s that?”
“I know I probably came on to him pretty hard, like a puppy finding a new best friend or something. But there’s just something about him that feels…like home. He’s a great mentor for me. No one replaces Dad, but Coach is the next best thing for me.”
I bite the inside of my cheek and force a smile. “Of course.”
He pops a Cheezel into his mouth and frowns. “What’s up with the two of you, anyway?”
“What do you mean?” I turn and pour myself a cup of tea, eager to busy my hands.
“I mean the two of you, I don’t know, there’s a tension there. You’re never easy around each other. Did something happen?”
Which part? The part where we got married in Vegas, or the part where I let him bend me like a rag doll every night until I’m hoarse from screaming his name?
Clearing that thought from my mind, I look back at Ollie and hope my voice is even as I speak. “No, nothing happened.”
His expression clears. “Okay. Good. Because you two are the most important people in my life over here, yeah?”
I can’t ever tell him.The thought lands like a bomb in my gut. He can’t ever know. Not now, not even years from now. It would absolutely devastate him.
And it’s not the “my coach and my sister are doing the nasty” part. It’s the part where his coach ran out on his sister. It’s the part where his coach asked his sister to keep quiet like a dirty secret. I can’t ever let Ollie think less of Colin, because Ollie has had enough tragedy in his life. I won’t add to it.
So I smile brightly at him. “We’re all good, Olls. Nothing to worry about.”
“You sure?”
“Absolutely.” I clap my hands together. “So, call time at the pitch is noon?”
“Yeah – how’d you know?”
I blink, thinking fast. “I’m part of the staff, kiddo. How else do you think I’d know?”
He chuckles. “Of course. You want a ride?”
“Nothing I’d like more than taking my life into my hands,” I say with a grin.
“I’m a good driver!” he protests, grabbing one last Cheezel and sliding off the barstool before I clip the bag shut. “See you in a bit then.”
Walking into the building later that morning is electric. Even though the fans aren’t here yet, the ticketing and other arena staff are, giving the place a palpable buzz.
Kari finds me at the desk all three therapists use. “What are you doing down here?”
I shrug, not really able to explain my urge to hide. Never mind that the team has already streamed out, a few of them having been taped up to protect their knees. Still more taped their ears to keep them protected when they inevitably took a hit to their head in a ruck or a maul, but that didn’t require my expertise.
“Well, it’s an hour to game time,” she chides. “Time to head up to the top. Unless you’re supposed to be on the pitch?”
“I’m due on the pitch in a few minutes,” I say, standing and grabbing the rolls of tape I’d pulled out to throw in my kit. Between it, gauze, and some blood-clotting mixture, it’s about all we can do. Rugby rules will let the players keep playing if we can stop the bleeding and get them back on the pitch within fifteen minutes. I’m not the one who handles that kind of injury – we have a team doctor for that – but you can’t be around rugby almost your whole life and not learn the basics.
Kari holds her arm out for me to thread mine through, and I grab the kit with my free hand. “Let’s go watch some legs, shall we?”
